You cut yr fingers
On the glass from the crashing of domestic philosophies
A mother cold and methodical
A father crass and bold bravado
A new kid with hands made of youth
Still holding you like a wounded robin
How many tears do you keep inside?
How many kisses do you save for me?
I have my shrieking brother
Wounded, sutured face from a gravel drive-way.
In my mind‘s eye, he is always crying,,
Now he’s the father of my nephew.
A small love buried inside of me
Still folding arms without you
How many walks will I go alone?
Before I’m holding you in our home?
My brother how I have come to learn of love through loss
And why I will never become bitter in these old shoes
My lover how I will always want more no matter the cost
And waiting for yr hand and heart is something I choose.
